Conflict Resolution
by A Timid Soul
Summary: In a land of myth and a time of magic, love becomes a much trickier thing. After a strange afternoon that sets the wheels in motion, Arthur and Merlin are forced to negotiate this distinctly unique realm and their place in it. A Merlin/Arthur slowmance
1. Chapter 1

Arthur and Merlin were sharing a perfectly normal afternoon before the once and future king's emotions decided to royally screw it up. Merlin was humoring Arthur by playing target for the day while Arthur tried to hone a new sword technique that Gwaine had learned from a roaming sell sword. The move itself wasn't extremely complicated but getting the finesse just right so that it flowed smoothly and efficiently was a particularly difficult task. Arthur felt as if he had sweated through his chain mail by the time Merlin finally begged for a break.

"Please, Arthur," came the distinctly labored breath from the scrawny man servant. "I need a break. I feel as if I could pass out."

Arthur sighed as he lowered his sword. "Fine, Merlin," Arthur shrugged. "If you're going to be such a girl about it, I'll give you a break." Arthur felt his lips quirk into a smile at the glare that comment earned him. He followed his sweating, and likely bruised, friend over to a small bench set up on the side of the training grounds. It was late afternoon, sun just starting to paint the sky with its dusky hues, as the two sat down. Merlin immediately gulped down a glass of water while Arthur leaned back and allowed his heart rate to settle into a more regular rhythm.

"Pretty day, isn't it?" commented Merlin in between sips. "Nice to finally have a break in the clouds."

Arthur snorted a bit at this. "Really, Merlin. The sunset."

"It's a pretty one," said Merlin defensively. "Even you can admit that."

"It's a sunset, Merlin, just like any other one."

Merlin snorted at this. "No wonder you're no good with Gwen."

Arthur bristled at this, shifting to sit and face his friend. "And what do you mean by that, _Mer_ lin?" Arthur knew that Gwen didn't exactly fall head over heels for him like most girls, but he thought he was making headway with her.

"You've got to be a bit sensitive sometimes," Merlin said as he fiddled with the now empty mug in his hands. "Open up a bit. People like that."

Arthur snorted. "Sure, Merlin. Whatever you say."

"I'm serious," said Merlin, defensive tones slipping into his words. "Trust is important and being sensitive doesn't hurt."

"Well, then," countered the king to be, not ready to be proven wrong by his man servant, "what would you do in this hypothetical situation of yours?"

"Well, I'd-" started Merlin before Arthur tutted at him.

"No, no, Merlin. _Show_ me, since you seem to be so hung up on that fact." Arthur grinned as Merlin shot him a pointedly exasperated look. Merlin sighed, seeming to accept the fact that he would have to do what Arthur wanted eventually, and cleared his throat.

"Don't you think the sky looks nice right now?" Merlin began, and Arthur had to catch himself at the man's soft tones. He seemed suddenly vulnerable, and Arthur was stuck trying to figure out if he was acting or not.

"I dunno, maybe it's a silly thought," Merlin continued sheepishly. "I've always liked the way the colors all mingled together. Makes me think of how the world could be sometimes."

"What do you mean?" Arthur found himself saying, skeptical as to where this was going, but curious nonetheless.

"Well, the colors. They all seem to blend well together, right?" Merlin said as he wetted his lips. "It's almost like people. Each distinct in their own way, but still working well together. Complementing each other. It makes me wonder if people could ever work that way some day."

Arthur had to suppress a smile. Merlin was obviously taking his part very seriously. Although he hand't quite convinced him that this would woo women.

"It also reminds me of you," Merlin said quietly, so quietly that Arthur wasn't entirely sure he heard it.

"What?" Arthur asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious about the whole situation.

"I-I," stammered Merlin looking up and flushing as he met the prince's gaze. "I mean that, uh," he started ineloquently, head down as he fiddled in earnest with the earthen ware in his hands. "It reminds me of your hair."

Arthur was surprised to find himself blushing, although he couldn't tell if it was out of flattery or embarrassment or offense.

"My…hair?" Arthur supplied simply. Merlin made a small noise of distress, but made no move to answer. After a tense moment, Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, Merlin, now we know why no one's been fawning over you," he offered in a vain hope to lighten the mood. Merlin gave small smile that bordered quite dangerously to a grimace.

Arthur leaned back and let out a breath. _My hair_ , Arthur mused. He knew that it was foolish to dwell on it. Merlin had meant it as an example and nothing more, but the part of his brain that wanted to know everything impatiently tapped a foot at the lack of clarifying information. Arthur sighed. He would regret this, but it would drive him mad if he didn't get an answer.

"Why exactly does the sunset remind you of my hair?" Arthur grumbled, reluctant to make eye contact with the man beside him. He felt the bench shift as Merlin flinched at the sudden question.

There was a pregnant pause before Merlin finally replied, "They're the same color."

"I know they're the same color, you idiot!" Arthur said indignantly. He wasn't sure how stupid his man servant must think he is, but no one could be that dumb.

"I know, it's just," Merlin wavered, obviously debating what answer to give. Arthur was watching him intently now. There was no way he would leave this without an answer. The man beside him sighed and closed his eyes, face morose as he delivered his response.

"They're both something that is familiar and comforting to me."

Arthur paused at that one. _What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ he internally ranted. _My hair, of all things, is comforting?!_

"You had better start making sense, Merlin, or I'll send you to Gaius," Arthur warned, slightly concerned for his friend's mental well being.

"It's how I find you," Merlin said, finally making eye contact with the man, and Arthur realized just how painful this was for him. "When we're out in the countryside or you're fighting or I'm searching the castle for you, I can usually find you by your hair. It's how I know you're still alive, sometimes, nothing but a bob of blonde hair running up a hill."

Arthur had a comment about how ridiculous this all was coiled on his tongue before a very small voice in his head uttered a single word.

 _Scarf_.

Arthur inwardly swore in a sort of embarrassed frustration. That's what Arthur always used to find his friend. He'd wear that blasted thing anywhere, and while it was horrible for hiding, it was a very easy way to track down Merlin. And in that sense, it was comforting.

 _Don't say a word_ , Arthur warned himself, suddenly mindful of the small space between them, but found that when he saw his friend's miserable and embarrassed posture that he had to say it.

"Your scarf," Arthur offered gruffly, swearing by all the gods that he would die before he admitted something like this to him again. "I find you by your scarf."

Merlin raised a tentative gaze to his, blue eyes wide but tenuously hopeful. "So, you get it," Merlin stated simply.

Arthur blushed and nodded. "Yeah," he mumbled, fingers playing with the hilt of his sword. He could feel his heart start to hammer in his chest but had no idea why. He couldn't be _that_ embarrassed, could he?

He dared to raise a gaze up and found that Merlin was staring back at him, the faintest of smiles playing at his lips. Arthur immediately glowered.

"Don't tell me that was a lie, because I swear, Merlin, I will kill you myself if it is."

Merlin gave a soft chuckle, and Arthur tried very valiantly to ignore the way his chest tightened just a bit. "No, Arthur, it wasn't a lie. But that _is_ what I meant by opening up to someone." Arthur nearly growled in annoyance. If it were just friendly banter, this would all be fine. But there was something that was making this more awkward than it needed to be, and Arthur wasn't sure if he wanted to acknowledge the answer.

"Well, I think that's enough for the day, isn't it?" said Arthur as he pushed himself up from the bench. "You can clean up the field. I'm going to bathe."

Merlin's annoyed eye-roll did nothing to chase away the nerves in Arthur's stomach, and instead he found that he quickened his pace to get as far away from his friend as possible. He thought that he was in the clear as he toweled off from his bath, grateful that someone other than Merlin had drawn it for him, but froze when a familiar knock rapped at the door.

Merlin was here to deliver his dinner.

Arthur had forgotten about this change in meal plans and panicked as he debated what to do, pulling on clothes in desperate anxiety. He wasn't quite over whatever feelings were stewing in his mind at the moment, and for some reason, didn't think that the presence of his friend would help. But he _was_ hungry so it wasn't like he could ignore him entirely.

"Arthur?" came Merlin's muffled call, and Arthur quickly made up his mind as he strode toward the door.

"Ah, Merlin," he greeted, consciously aware that he was acting incredibly odd but found that he could not stop it. "Thank you so much for bringing me dinner. I'll just take it from here," he said as he tried to swipe the plate from the man and dash back into his room. Merlin caught the door and planted his feet where he was.

"Are you all right, sire?" asked Merlin, a very concerned look on his face.

"All right?" Arthur echoed, cursing himself as his voice pitched up a few octaves. "Oh I'm fine," he replied in a deep baritone, only adding more tension to the already awkward situation. "No need to worry about me. You have the rest of the night off. I'll see you tomorrow."

Merlin gave Arthur one of those annoyed, almost bored looks he saved for situations where Arthur was being especially stubborn. Arthur sighed as he moved to sit at the head of the table, Merlin letting himself in and seating himself next to the prince, placing down another plate that Arthur hadn't even seen in his initial dash from the door.

"I didn't think that you would want to eat alone," Merlin supplied quietly as he began to eat. Arthur paused, pushing his food around his plate nervously. He looked up and felt that he had hurt Merlin somehow, but no matter how strange he was feeling at the moment, he couldn't just let his friend suffer.

"I appreciate it," Arthur offered back, spearing a piece of chicken on his fork and quickly stuffing his mouth.

It was Merlin's turn to pause as he raised his gaze ever so slightly. Arthur continued to eat on in silence, feeling his friend's gaze linger on his face. Eventually, the two had finished their meals and sat for a moment, neither willing to address the obvious tension in the room. Arthur forced his eyes to acknowledge the fact that his friend was still there when his mind registered an anomaly.

"You changed it?" Arthur asked, finding that reflexively his hand reached out to touch the object in question. He felt his skin touch rough material before his knuckles grazed soft, warm skin.

"My other scarf was dirty," Merlin managed, face flushing. Arthur could feel Merlin's voice vibrate on his hand, suddenly consciously aware of the fact that he was touching the man's neck.

 _Move your hand away!_ his mind screamed, but Arthur found that he was frozen, breath hitching as he gently moved his hand downwards. In that moment, both Arthur and Merlin realized that he was caressing his neck. And neither made a move to stop it.

 _You are a prince,_ Arthur's mind informed him sternly. _He is your man servant. This is entirely inappropriate and unbecoming_. But he found that his mind was easily tossing those words away, entirely focused on the heat that pulsed against the back of his hand. It was intoxicating, feeling Merlin's pulse begin to race under the feather light touch of his hand.

"Sire?" Merlin managed barely above a whisper, voice unsteady and breathy. Arthur felt his own throat tighten as his pulse quickened. Urged on by the chemicals in his veins, the prince ran a rough thumb over Merlin's jaw. The dark haired man sucked in a breath, eyelids fluttering closed, hands gripping the table in an attempt to steady himself. Arthur was aware that there was heat pooling in a region that was conveniently hidden by the table, but was too addled by the buzzing in his ears to do anything about it. He leaned forward in his chair as he shifted his hand to settle under Merlin's chin as he ran his thumb over the man's bottom lip.

 _They're so soft_ , Arthur realized, before he felt his mind completely stutter as lips briefly closed around his finger and _by the gods was that his tongue?_

Eyes met instantly, each gaze dark and loaded as they stared the other down, Arthur's thumb still hovering over the man's parted lips. This was new territory. Unfamiliar. Unexpected. In a startling moment of lucidity, Arthur's brain finally caught up with him.

"No," he said, quickly withdrawing his hand and pushing himself up from his chair. "This is… Gwen and I…"

Arthur searched for the words that would fix this, oblivious to the way Merlin suddenly closed himself off, face set, jaw clenched.

"Of course, sire. My apologies for the misstep. It shall not happen again," Merlin intoned. Arthur kept his eyes planted on the table, watching as a pale hand grabbed the remnants of his dinner from him. He had really hurt him this time. He didn't need to see Merlin to know.

 _But you are the prince of Camelot! You cannot lo- be attracted to another man, especially your man servant._

Arthur heard the latch of the door click smartly into place. He couldn't rightly focus on what happened. Couldn't even begin to sort out what feelings were running through his veins. He gripped the table harder before he slapped a palm down in frustration. This was not supposed to happen! He fancied Gwen. That in itself was a enough to incite his father's vitriol. To imagine what would happen if Merlin-

 _JUST STOP IT!_ came the internal rant. _STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT!_

There was no way for him to channel his frustration at the moment. No small task that needing doing that could temporarily distract his mind. Instead, he found himself changing into bed clothes and forcing himself under his sheets, trying to marshal his thoughts into some semblance of order. But he found that all he could do was stare at the pale moonlight that filtered in through his window until his mind finally dropped him into a restless sleep.

* * *

 _Author's Note_ : So apparently midterms week makes me want to write bad Merthur. Welp. Can't promise that this will go anywhere, but if y'all are interested, I'll see about following up. Also, place holder title is place holder-ry.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur groaned as he opened his eyes. The sky was flushed a pleasant shade of pink, first rays just beginning to trickle in through the window and caress his face. _It's too early for this_ , thought Arthur, mind groggy and still sore from playing the events of two days past over in his mind. He couldn't quite figure out what had driven him to be so impulsive that night, and the more he tried to tease out an answer, the more frustrated he got. He turned over in bed, pulling the sheets up and closing his eyes; it was _definitely_ too early to deal with this.

"Your breakfast will be here in a moment, sire," came a familiar voice. Arthur's eyes flew open, catching the slightest movement of blue out of the corner of his eye. He was here. Arthur hadn't expected it, as his manservant hadn't shown up yesterday morning, but today he was here. The prince wasn't quite sure how he felt about this.

He slowly eased himself out of bed, convinced that this might all be some stress-formed dream and any sudden movements would scare the apparition away. But as he walked behind the changing screen, he noticed that the man still stayed.

"Merlin?" he asked as he pulled on some pants. He quickly tugged on a shirt as well, but couldn't hear a response past the scratchy material over his ears. "Merlin?" he queried again, this time poking his head out from behind the screen. But there was no answer and no Merlin. Arthur had to suppress a frustrated sigh. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to tell Merlin, but the simple fact that he was here and then not left him oddly disappointed. _I need to eat something_ , Arthur grumbled internally as he shuffled over to the table. He was nothing without breakfast.

As Arthur sat at the table, rubbing sleep from his eyes, the door swung open, and Merlin appeared carrying a tray of warm breakfast food. Arthur felt his spirits lift. He inhaled the scent of fresh bread and preserves but also noticed the familiar bitter scent of herbs and poultices.

"Would you like wine, ale, or cider with your breakfast, sire?" came the question. Arthur was awake enough now to notice that Merlin had a tone: flat, deferential, and extremely un-Merlin-like. It made Arthur want to grind his teeth.

"The ale will be fine," replied Arthur, trying - and failing - to keep the clipped tones from his voice. He noticed that Merlin kept as much distance as physically possible between them while pouring the ale, and Arthur rolled his eyes. So this is how it was going to be. Both dancing around the obvious problem and neither willing to do anything about it. Except Arthur wasn't the type of person to just leave things be and hope for the best.

"Merlin?" asked Arthur, glancing over at this friend who stood at attention over in a corner.

"Yes, sire?" came the reply.

"Would you mind sitting with me for a moment?" Arthur asked as he spread some jam onto a piece of bread. He could see Merlin hesitate for a moment, torn between his duty to follow the request and his desire to remain as far as physically possible from the prince, but duty won out and he seated himself across from Arthur.

"How are you feeling this morning?" asked Arthur casually, taking a moment to look at his friend. He remembered that he had seen Merlin for a brief hour or so yesterday afternoon, but his friend had looked terrible then; dark circles seemed to sink into his face under his bloodshot eyes, and a perpetual frown tugged at his lips and furrowed his brow. At least today, his eyes were more alert, and the frown was mercifully missing.

"I am doing fine, sire," replied Merlin, offering a small dip of his head as he responded. Arthur abruptly slapped his hand onto the table.

"Will you stop doing that?" Arthur asked forcefully, voice strained as he tried not to yell too loudly. "I know you're my manservant, but you are also my friend. You don't need to cower around me."

Merlin blinked in surprise and nodded. "Of course."

"Good," said Arthur, giving a quick nod to himself and returning back to breakfast. He paused as he chewed for a moment before he said, "I would like to apologize for my behavior two days ago. It was highly inappropriate."

Arthur nearly choked on his ale as he watched Merlin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He tried to cover it with as much of a dignified cough as he could muster.

"Sire?" Merlin finally managed in his shock. Arthur let out a sigh of relief; Merlin wasn't angry.

"I also understand if you would like to request to work solely with Gaius," continued Arthur. He paused as he chose his next words. "And yet despite how annoying you are, I would still be willing to keep you on as my manservant. The choice is yours."

Arthur kept his eyes down as he sipped on his ale. He didn't want to see Merlin's face, didn't want to watch it shut down again before he inevitably responded "no." But Arthur wanted Merlin to have the choice; he deserved that much.

The silence stretched out a beat longer than Arthur would have liked when he heard the soft reply, "I would like to work with Gaius."

Arthur felt the hope that had bloomed in his chest collapse. His heart stuttered as he struggled to find the right words to respond with, mind unwilling to process what just happened.

"Of course," he managed dumbly, voice threatening to break at any moment as he white-kuckled the mug of ale in his hand. "You are… you are free to go."

Merlin nodded before he excused himself from the table, slipping a scrap of parchment towards Arthur. "These are the books on the five kingdoms' histories for the peace talks today. I've already pulled them from the archives," he offered as an awkward farewell before he walked out of the room and softly closed the door.

Arthur was crushed.

He wasn't surprised; he had expected Merlin to choose Gaius, but it still stung. He was losing his friend. He had tried to handle this with as much maturity and respect as he could, and yet it felt like things were still crumbling around him. Who would he talk to now? Confide in? He could possibly speak to Morgana, but she was having terrible dreams, and he didn't want to burden her any more than she already was. That left Gwen. But those were just fleeting moments, and Arthur wasn't quite sure where they stood anymore. Merlin had stepped out of the room and sent the prince's life into a vacuum.

Arthur let his head fall into his hands as he tried to steady his breathing. There had to be a way to fix things. Had to be a way to at least patch up the friendship that he had come to appreciate more than he initially realized. But for now, he had no idea how to do that. For now, he had to prepare for peace talks that held the fate of Albion in its sway. For now, it was about making it through one night.

Arthur squared his shoulders, wiping once at his eyes as he sat up in his chair. Arthur was a future king. He would have to bear much graver burdens than this. Slipping into the mindset of the prince that he was raised to be, Arthur finished his breakfast and headed to the archives, determination pressing him on. The studying would be dull and the festivities of the night would be tedious, but he knew his place and would not shirk his duty.

* * *

 _Author's Note_ : WHY ARE YOU GUYS SO AMAZING? Seriously, I am blown away by y'all's support. You are all wonderful people, so have a cookie on me. Also, slowmances are my thing, so yes. More conflict. Also, also, it's close to the end of the semester on my end, so I can't promise when the next update will be; it could very well be weeks or months into the future. HOWEVER, I promise that I will not abandon this. I'm quite enjoying myself, so you can count on a follow-up. So again, thank you all for being wonderful (especially those who left reviews and/or alerted/favorited), and I'll see you at the next update!

 **EDIT** : After reading a certain review (you know who you are), I had inspiration to re-write the ending of this chapter. Much more pleased with it.


	3. Chapter 3

As is wont to happen during lazy walks around the castle grounds, Arthur found himself in a bout of introspective musings. He would never verbally admit it, but this was perhaps the first time Arthur had been truly hurt by someone's rejection of friendship, which isn't to say that this was the first time that it had happened, as it had happened many times before, but the circumstances this time around were different. When he was very young, not being friends with someone, whether it was a serving youth or a visiting noble's child, was a sadness that only lasted a few minutes. There were always other things to occupy a child's young mind and a durable friendship wasn't so incredibly important. Even when Arthur was old enough to start befriending squires with full knowledge of how a friendship truly worked, he could still console himself with the smug fact that he was a prince and they were not. Or, if his friend-to-be was a prince or princess, they were simply not one of Camelot. Vanity neatly covered such a hole in a young, pre-teen Arthur who was struggling to find himself in the nuanced and chaotic world of court.

But Arthur was no longer so young or naïve. He understood that being a prince didn't simply solve problems. Instead, he was now left to the frustratingly mature reaction of attempting to sort and face his feelings. Merlin had probably been his first real friend if he had to say so. Sure he had Morgana, but they were practically siblings and so their friendship tended to supersede such trivialities. But Merlin was different. He was an outsider, ignorant of most of the ways of Camelot and even Arthur's station, but they became friends. Good friends, he would venture, though he would never admit it to the dark haired man himself. Thus his realization that he had lost one of the first meaningful relationships of his young adult life effectively dampened Arthur's mood for the vast majority of the day. And as his feet finally placed him before the dusty and musty doorway that marked the archives, he sighed; an afternoon in the old room would do nothing for his spirits either. Resigned but with a hint of lingering Pendragon determination and a will to ignore the morning's events, Arthur pushed his way into the room.

* * *

The archives fared much as Arthur had expected. _Well,_ he mentally corrected, _perhaps worse_. He had been sitting at a dusty table, sneezing sporadically, as he was forced to listen to the mouth-breathing archivist respire in the background for nearly an hour. He had to stifle the urge to scream.

"Well," the prince said to himself as he pushed himself up from the creaking and stiffly uncomfortable bench, "I think I'm about done here." He nodded curtly to the offending archivist, who was blissfully unaware of his grating presence on the prince, and walked back into the light of high noon. He blinked rapidly, hand instinctively rising to shade the sun, before the world slowly came back into focus.

"Well, well, well," came a familiarly feminine voice. "I would never have expected to see you willingly emerge from an archive, sire."

Arthur smiled as his vision cleared and the blurred features before him sharpened into the smiling face of Guinevere.

"It's not entirely of my own volition," Arthur answered easily. "My father would have my head if I forgot any of our visiting guests' names tonight."

"So quick to think you're in the clear," Gwen noted with good-natured smile. "The day's still young, you know."

At this Arthur simply smiled and fell into step with the enigmatic serving girl. He was grateful for her presence and her wit as it provided some sense of normalcy to his day. Of course, part of his mind dipped into the process of reevaluating his feelings for the woman, but he quickly halted that line of thought for the time being.

"So," began Gwen, fiddling with the ends of the clothes that she was currently carting about. "Care to share what's on your mind? I doubt your dwelling on the names and famed histories of the families that you just studied."

Arthur once again felt his lips quirk into a smile. Clever and incredibly perceptive. Gwen was always good company.

"You're right on that front," started Arthur, realizing that he might have to summon some tact before he simply blurted his woes to a woman he was still half wooing in some sense. Or was he?

"Aaand?" prompted Gwen, shooting a quick gaze his way, one eyebrow lifted.

"And, what?" Arthur deflected. "I just emerged from hours of study in the archives. My mind is simply spent."

"Well, if the future king's mind is 'simply spent' after only a few hours of concentrated thinking," began Gwen, mischievous glint hiding subtly in her eyes, "than Camelot might want to start searching for a new ruler."

"Careful, Gwen," Arthur taunted before dropping his voice to a stage whisper. "I could charge you for treason."

Gwen laughed, a pleasant, rich sound that soothed the rest of Arthur's irritated nerves. He looked over at Gwen and held her gaze a moment as her eyes shifted back to him. _Definitely good company_.

"A particularly enlightened jest, I must admit it," said Gwen, the lingering smile on her face still coloring her words with a distinctly happy tone. "But you still haven't answered my question. What exactly are you thinking about?"

 _Ah_ , Arthur chided himself, subconsciously shaking his head as he centered his thoughts. _Tact._

"Merlin and I had a bit of a disagreement this morning is all," he said neutrally, waving his hand in a vain attempt to say, _See? All is fine._ But Gwen simply leveled a look at Arthur.

"What?" he protested.

"You're a horrible liar, Arthur," Gwen stated simply, although there was a touch of admiration in her voice. Arthur was oblivious to it.

"I am not," he said mock indignation. "I've been fooling my father into thinking I'll be a great king for years now."

Gwen shook her head, smile still there, but tempered by a determined curiosity.

"Self-deprecating humor will only get you so far around me," started Gwen simply, pausing as she had steered them to a more private area of the courtyard. "And your deflective jokes, if amusing, have worn out their welcome."

Arthur felt a bit of a blush rise at this frank evaluation but kept his face neutral. He waited for Gwen to continue, but as she stared at him with a look that clearly told him to be out with it already, Arthur sighed.

"Alright, so perhaps it was more than a slight misunderstanding," began Arthur.

Gwen signed and rolled her eyes as if Arthur had said something terribly obvious. "The fact that he isn't with you now made that clear enough," said Gwen, annoyance starting to barely brush her words.

"Right," said Arthur dumbly, struggling to recapture the train of thought that he had. "Well, you see, I, uh, might have done something to…offend him," Arthur managed, hoping that he had picked his words well enough. "He has elected to take a break from his services for the time being."

Gwen's eyebrows momentarily shot up before she schooled them back into a relatively neutral look. Of course, Arthur saw the action and inwardly swore. He would need to brush up on his rhetoric.

"A break?" echoed Gwen in disbelief, giving a small sniff of skepticism at the end of the question. "And you simply let him do it?"

Arthur shifted his weight to his other foot. "I, uh…well, yes."

Gwen seemed to mull this information over, fingers once again returning to the fabric in her hand. "An odd choice," Gwen started slowly, "but perhaps the best one. It seems he won't be talking to you anytime soon?"

 _Bloody_ _perceptive, this one_ , Arthur inwardly swore as he felt suddenly exposed by her keenly aware response. _Am I always such an open book?_

"Are you concerned?" she asked at the prince's silence.

Arthur had to pause on that one. His first instinct was to respond with a resounding yes. But a second voice quickly reminded him that giving such an enthusiastic response to anyone would perhaps not be the wisest choice. He took another moment before he settled on an answer.

"Do you believe I have reason to be?" Arthur asked with as much dispassion as he could muster.

"No," said Gwen, an echo of a smile just ghosting her lips. "The two of you are practically like brothers. I doubt he'll leave you for too long."

"What if he does?" Arthur found himself saying before he realized it. "What if he decides that I've really offended him? How would I…" Arthur trailed as the question died on his tongue. What exactly did he want to know? How he would win him back? Prove his worth? His maturity?

Gwen came to his aid, intuiting the question easily. "Respect, Arthur," she offered gently, unused to seeing the future king so flustered. "Common civility and respect can go a long way. You, of all people, should know that."

Of course Arthur had known that, but the answer to him seemed too simple. Respect? Would that be enough to win back his friend's favor?

 _What's the worst that could happen?_ he thought. _It couldn't hurt to try_.

A single peal of a bell tore both Arthur and Gwen from their thoughts. _Was it truly one o'clock already?_

"Oh, bugger it!" swore Gwen before she promptly flushed and lifted a hand to cover her mouth. Arthur's lips twisted into an almost obscenely amused smile.

"My lord! Please, I-I," Gwen stuttered as she tried to form an apology.

"You're late, I presume?" Arthur supplied with a subtly flippant raise of an eyebrow.

"Yes," said Gwen with a reflexive half curtsy. "I need to attend to Lady Morgana."

"Of course," said Arthur. "Do tell my sister that I send my regards."

Gwen merely shot him an annoyed look before offering a quick, "My lord," curtsying once again, and scurrying off. Arthur smiled at her retreating form as she deftly darted through a few meandering nobles on her way to the steps. He enjoyed spending time with Gwen, he deduced, regardless of the status of his feelings for her, although their interaction had admittedly persuaded Arthur to believe that they were quite strong. But the unbidden image of Merlin and his tongue quickly surfaced in Arthur's mind, as if challenging him to rethink his new revelation.

 _By the gods_ , Arthur swore as he promptly pushed the image from his brain, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together in an attempt to coax the sudden buzzing sensation away. If he was going to respect the man, he would have to work on keeping his inner thoughts in line. Perhaps he would have a chance to practice tonight at the opening feast for the peace talks. _The peace talks._

"Blast it!" Arthur muttered to himself as he quickly made his way back to the castle. He was supposed to be ready to receive guests with his father in less than an hour. And without a manservant to help him dress, Arthur was sure that it would not be the simple act that he willed it to be.

 _But I'm a grown man!_ Arthur claimed as he pushed the heavy doors of his room open. _I can certainly dress myself._ But as he opened his dresser and eyed the neatly organized clothes, he quietly rescinded his claim.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note**_ : So, sorry for the delay on this chapter! I had an idea lined up, kept fighting it as I kept meandering around some conversations, and realized that I would have to provide a bit more background before I launched into the next chapter. So, apologies if it feels a bit filler-y, but at least we got to see Gwen, yeah? Also, I really can't overstate how much I appreciate all of y'all's support. Normally, my policy is to give a shout-out to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter, but as y'all seem to be a particularly engaged group (for which I am forever thankful and flattered) I simply have to thank all of you at large (although I will always respond to you personally! Pinky promise)! You are all wonderful people, and while it may take me time to get my chapters posted, please know that your reviews are what keep me going. So, hopefully I'll have something for you in the relative future! Until then, cheers!


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur fiddled with the sleeve of his dress shirt as he scanned the room again, absently watching as servers and nobles floated around the space, sowing gossip and intrigue in equal measure. Feasts were always a place rife with political scandal, but Arthur's mind was decidedly distracted from the festivities of the night. Instead, part of his mind mulled over the progress of the first day of the peace talks. Posturing and grand speeches dominated the afternoon, but an ounce of solid word or substance had yet to be uttered. Uther had reminded him that it would likely proceed with such a deliberative and pompous air but simply breathing in a room choked with thinly veiled lies and half-hearted civility was enough to suck the life out of the young prince.

"If you touch the end of your sleeve one more time, I will see to it that the next few days are absolute misery for you," growled Uther, cutting into Arthur's thoughts. Arthur quickly checked the hand that had been impulsively moving to said sleeve the whole night.

"Yes, Father," Arthur replied, dipping his head in quiet obedience. He had managed to make himself mostly presentable for the night but hadn't realized that he had pulled a shirt that was too small until he was halfway down a hallway, cape splayed out behind him as he jogged to reach the courtyard on time. And of course, there hadn't been a convenient break for him to change between then and the feast and so he was left to live with his fashion faux pas for the night.

 _Merlin would have known_ , came the thought to his mind. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a half smile as he shifted in his seat to reexamine the room. He wouldn't deny that the other half of his mind- perhaps more than half at this point - had been quietly turning over the ideas of respect and Merlin. Gwen's advice had been solid, and Arthur saw no reason not to follow it, but implementing that advice was harder than Arthur had anticipated. What exactly would he have to do to prove to Merlin that he would respect him? That he wouldn't lose himself to whatever odd impulse seized him that fated night after training?

Arthur grabbed a fork and began to push a rather wilted grape around his plate. One thing he knew was that he would continue to call him Merlin. It might seem insignificant, but Arthur felt it worth repeating; he would never define Merlin by his station and would give him the common respect of using his name. Of course, he harbored a secret hope that perhaps such treatment would convince Merlin to drop honorifics before Arthur's name as well but had a feeling that would be a much more involved task. He sighed as he realized that it was a selfish request, too.

 _Focus on Merlin, you lout. Not yourself._ As the grape continued its now perpetual path around the plate, another idea struck Arthur: he would ask Merlin for advice. Truth be told, he had done it times before, but it was always roundabout, as if Arthur felt foolish asking his manservant to help him with any matters other than what shirt he should wear. But time had proved that Merlin possessed an underlying propinquity to wisdom and asking him forthright would prove that he thought the man's opinion mattered. Satisfied with the idea, Arthur speared the grape and popped it into his mouth. He had to stifle the impulse to pull a face as sour juices spilled over his tongue and a decidedly slimy texture seemed to sit captive between his teeth. He quickly gulped down some ale with as much dignity as he could muster.

"I think that would be a wonderful idea, don't you, Arthur?" came the question, laced with that particular brand of disappointment that meant Arthur had missed something important. As his eyes refocused on reality, Arthur took in the situation. An eager looking, elderly noble to his right waited expectantly, eyebrows raised as he smiled. Arthur could feel the dark look emanating from his father to his left and knew that he was supposed to deliver some sort of answer to the man. Coughing to allow himself a moment of composure, Arthur turned to fully face the aging noble.

"I think that is a positively brilliant idea," smiled Arthur, softening his eyes and hoping that his statement would carry enough boyish enthusiasm that the old man would forgive the hiccup as a typical, yet forgivable, moment of youth. Arthur doubted whether it was necessary to provide any other answer than a simple "yes" as the man enthusiastically clapped his hands together, momentarily startling a servant to his right.

"Marvelous! Absolutely marvelous!" rasped the old man, creases deepening by his eyes as he smiled wider. "I haven't been on a proper hunt, in…oh, well I don't know how many years. Let me see…" he trailed, and Arthur had to strain to keep his smile from falling into a grimace.

"Don't think you can get out of this," said Uther menacingly from behind. Arthur once again offered a quick nod. He knew it would not be the most pleasant of hunts, but he also valued his life and knew not to cross his father.

"Thirteen!" declared the noble loudly, and Arthur covered his jump with an enthusiastic nod of his head. "Thirteen years. With my good friend Bennett. Or was it Barrett? Bartleby! Bartleby!" snapped the elder, and a man who seemed to have all life and enthusiasm stripped from him emerged.

"Yes, master?" came the lazy and slow reply, and the two seemed to descend into a one-sided conversation. Arthur took another healthy sip of his ale. He lifted his eyes as he did so, searching for a scarf in a scarf-less place before his gaze found and settled on Merlin. He was smiling as a group of servants laughed around him.

 _At least he's having fun_ , Arthur thought with jealousy.

"Bennett!" came the enthusiastic reply of the man next to him, the expressionless servant resuming his post behind their chairs. "It was most definitely Bennett."

Arthur turned, nodded, and smiled as he motioned for a serving boy to refill his glass. Tonight was going to be a long one.

* * *

"I told you. I don'need any of your help," insisted Arthur as he felt someone hoist him bodily from his chair.

"Yes, you do. Now stop whining," replied Merlin.

"I'm not whinin'," Arthur insisted again.

"Yes, you are! You're- I'm not arguing with a drunk man. Come on. Walk."

Arthur reluctantly agreed. He didn't know how it had happened, but one minute Arthur was drowning in the most dull conversation he had ever borne witness to and the next, Merlin suddenly appeared, and that made Arthur happy. In fact, it had been some magic words from Uther that had made it happen. Arthur had vaguely heard Uther say something about "everyday" and "I gave you this job" and "you should be grateful" and then _poof!_ Merlin was there.

"Poof!" Arthur said, before quietly laughing to himself.

"At least you're a happy drunk," sighed Merlin as he took hold of Arthur's elbow to steer him out of the main hallway.

"I tol' you," Arthur began, raising a finger in Merlin's - or at least what he thought was Merlin's - direction. "I'm not…drunk."

"Riiight," Merlin responded dubiously. "And I'm the prince of Camelot."

Arthur shook his blonde hair. "No," he began forcefully, stopping to draw himself up to his full height. "I'm-"

"Yes, yes," said Merlin, quickly cutting him off. " _You're_ the prince of Camelot. Silly me."

"I'm the prince of Camelot," Arthur echoed as he once again forced his uncoordinated body into motion. "You are…my…uh…"

"Manservant?" supplied Merlin as he propelled Arthur past an equally inebriated noble.

"Yes. You're my manservant. Who is very good at picking out shirts."

Merlin snorted a laugh.

But Arthur froze as a thought hit him, sending Merlin momentarily off balance. "No! You're not my manservant!" Arthur quickly backtracked. He had said something wrong. There was something from earlier... What was that thing he had been thinking about? The thing Gwen had told him? It was important. Very important. What was it...

"What do you mean I'm not your manservant?" asked Merlin, as Uther had just reminded him that he very much was. "What else could I possibly be?"

Arthur thought long and hard. He knew the answer. It was…it was...

"RESPECT!" bellowed Arthur. _Gwen would be sooo proud of me right now,_ he thought in triumph.

"By the gods, Arthur!" said Merlin, scrambling to quiet the suddenly vocal prince. "I'm glad you know your words, but why on earth do you feel the need to yell that? And what does that even mean?"

Arthur stared at Merlin. He knew what he had to do. It was like a mission. A quest. He had been on those before. Read about them. He knew how to do this. Bracing himself, he stopped, putting both hands on Merlin's shoulders as he looked him in the eyes.

"Merlin," he began with a confidence that only alcohol could elicit. "You are my friend. My bestest friend," he declared as he shook the man with sincerity."So-" he continued, oblivious to Merlin's bemused expression. "I'm going to give you a day off ev'ry week."

 _A-HA! I did it! THAT is how you show respect. A day off! I'm a bloody wonderful prince._

Merlin blinked. "If you said something like this to me normally, I'd call you drunk," he said, sighing as a small smile started to twitch at his lips. "And here you are."

"A bloody wonderful prince!" Arthur happily declared.

"Yes," agreed Merlin, rolling his eyes in good humor. "A bloody wonderful prince. Now, please, let's keep our hands to ourselves and our voices down so I can get you in bed, okay?"

 _Oh, no._ thought Arthur. _Oh, no no no no no._

"Pffft!" Arthur started, trying very _very_ hard not to laugh. _Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't-_

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Aaarthur?" he said slowly, drawing out the name in a way that hinted that he really didn't want to know what came next.

 _Oh, bloody hell._

Arthur lost it. He barked out laughter like a jackal, belly laugh ripping from his ribs and bouncing off any nearby surface. He steadied himself as the world increased its spinning around him, hand sliding against the solid wood of a wall.

 _Oh, but Merlin can be such an idiot sometimes!_

"That's it. Bed. Now," ordered Merlin. Surprisingly, Arthur felt himself pushed only a few more feet before the heavy wood of his doors swung open to reveal his room. _We walked a lot!_ he registered. Merlin continued to push him towards the bed; Arthur kept laughing.

"You just-" Arthur spluttered, attempting, and failing, to keep himself from laughing. "You just said that-"

"I really don't need to know what you think I just said," muttered Merlin to himself as he pulled the covers of the bed back. "But I highly doubt that'll stop you."

"-pfft!- that you were going to get me in bed." Arthur roared anew at the joke, leaning on a bedpost for balance. Merlin paled slightly.

"Oh, Merlin!" sighed Arthur as his laughter subsided, plopping himself on the bed. "You are so _stupid!_ You would just have to-"

 _Wait_! protested a small part of Arthur's brain. _You can't tell him that. That's a secret._

"Shhh!" Arthur shushed himself, giggling at the sound his teeth made. Merlin shook his head as he handed Arthur a glass of water.

"Just drink this and go to bed, yeah?" he said, clearly exasperated and out of energy to humor the drunken prince.

Arthur frowned. He knew that tone. Merlin was angry. Now he felt bad. Obligingly, Arthur took the water and downed it in a matter of seconds, splashing a few drops on his shirt before finishing it off with a satisfied "ahhh!" Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Remember that you have a hunting party in the morning," said Merlin as he eased the boots off of Arthur's feet. Looking at the already half asleep man, he determined that was as much as he would be able to help. "Good night."

"G'night, Merlin," replied Arthur, snuggling himself into a pillow and sighing happily. "Thank you for helping me."

Merlin paused at the door and risked a glance back, but the prince was already blissfully passed out to the world, little smile still lingering on his face.

"You're welcome," he replied uncertainly before he slipped out the room and closed the doors.

* * *

 _Author's Note_ : Disclaimer - I am a complete teetotaler, so I have zero clue how to write drunk people. So please point out what you felt did and didn't work; I know it was rough, so I'm all ears! Also, I'm not 100% on how exactly to use the word "propinquity." I know how I want it to work, but if you read that part and it made you cringe, please let me know. And finally, shout-outs to **mersan123, Pancake lover101,** and **dudewheresmywand** for reviewing the last chapter! Y'all are the bestest! :) To all of you who have faved/alerted or are just stopping by, hugs to all of you, and thanks for reading!

Housekeeping: Next chapter might be short as I try to figure out a bit of a time/canon issue I'm in (I put myself further back than I intended), so that is something I'll have to address at some point. Also, I almost added in the scene I have for the next chapter here, but I didn't want to make this too long and choppy. But would y'all like longer chapters? I can't promise anything, but I can certainly make the effort if you do!


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